First Time
by Jessica Dawn
Summary: Thanksgiving at the loft. There's a first time for everything.


Title: First Time  
Author: Jessica  
Feedback: Is highly appreciated  
Pairing: Angel / Collins, Mimi / Benny, though they're not very prominent.  
Word Count: 2031  
Rating: G  
Genre: General  
Summary: "It's hard for me to be here, and watch them celebrate without me."  
Notes: First entry! Go me. I'm not sure if Angel's presence will count with what I've got in mind, but here's hoping.  
Special Thanks: My dad. For putting up with the kids I'm babysitting while I do this.  
Spoilers: None really.  
Warnings: None really.  
Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, and I am making no money off the usage of the characters, settings, or scenarios following the cut.

AN - Originally written for the Thanksgiving edition of speedrent

_I've been watching them from where I am. It's been hard. I haven't even been gone a month yet, and everythings falling apart… Really… Things have been falling apart since the day I was buried. Roger up and left for Santa Fe, Mimi went to rehab, but withdrew from it, and what is she doing with Benny? Maureen and Joanne have claimed to be done with each other, and Collins… God, it's nice to know he misses me, but I don't want him to get so distracted by me that he forgets to live. _

Mark's spent more than enough time working for that horrible woman, and I do hope he stops selling his soul to the devil for a paycheck, but at the same time, he's tried to do something good with himself… He's tried to get them all to come to the loft for Thanksgiving dinner. Of course, he doesn't know that I'm going to be there, but it'll be the first time since the cemetery that they'll all be in the same place. All I can do is hope they don't jump at each others throats again. But really… He's making such a big deal over this dinner I can't help but sit back and watch… It's so funny… It's a disaster, of course, but it's hilarious.

If only something could have made Thanksgiving day a bit nicer for the blonde. They never had really done much about it in the past. In fact, if he remembered correctly, last year, himself and Roger had celebrated the occasion with a trip to the pizza parlour, and since they couldn't afford anything more, shared a small cheese pizza. Overall, it had been the best pizza he'd ever eaten, but there was no time to think about that as the phone rang. He ran over, and quickly lifted the receiver, though he did so with a hand still bearing an off-white, and rather singed oven-mitt. If it had been any other day, he'd've screened the call first, but he didn't have time to think about that right now. He had four pots on the stove with various things cooking, several things waiting in pots to be put on the stove, and a turkey in the oven. There were pies on the countertop, wiaitng to be put in, and overall, he just wanted to give his friends the gift of a proper thanksgiving. He'd had a surprise in his last paycheck, after a job well done, and thought the meal was a great idea. It would be a way to get them all together for the first time since Angel had died. **"Hello?"** He asked into the receiver, trying to stretch across the small distance to the stove. The _potatoes_ were boiling over.

**"Hey Mark… How's dinner coming along?"**Roger asked, as he held the payphone up to his ears with his shoulder. He'd told Mark a week or so ago that he wouldn't be able to make it out, but that he'd really love to.

**"Horrible. Everything's going wrong. There aren't enough stoves in the world to put together a proper dinner. I don't have enough hands either."** Mark gave a sort of half laugh into the phone, though he did sound almost desperate. **"I miss you. You could've helped me with this."**

This time Roger gave a short laugh. **"Sorry man… I've decided I don't like snow. Or cold. Warm is good. Santa Fe is warm. I miss you too though. You know that…"**

Mmh. Lovely. As Roger had spoken an absolutely putrid smell had come from the kitchen area, and Mark had simply dropped the phone, abandoning Roger to deal with his problem. Not enogh hands? Well… Grabbing at potlids he managed to figure out what caused the smell. The combined burning of peas, carrots, and turnip would be anough to turn anybody's stomach. He quickly lifted the three pots off the stove, and into the thankfully, empty sink, where he ran cold water, simply to cool the pots down. They were cheap, and would melt otherwise. He put three more pots on the stove (gravy, corn, and broccoli) and ran back to the phone. **"Sorry Roger… I missed that… The vegetables are exploding on me."**

Again Roger gave a short laugh. **"It's alright Mark, just don't burn down the loft while I'm gone, alright?"**

**"Yeah Rog… I'll do my best."**

Roger drew in a quick breath, for a moment, it sounded as though he were shivering. **"Look Mark… I gotta go… The bus I've gotta get on isn't too far away now, I can see it… I'll see you sometime soon, alright?"**

There was no time for Mark to respond, as Roger had hung up the phone. He'd moved quickly back into the kitchen to give everything a quick stir, and to stop the potatoes from boiling over again, before there was a knock at the door. He sighed slightly, and ran to tug it open, Benny, Mimi, and Maureen filing into his living room. Maureen quickly moved into the kitchen, sensing in that way she always seemed to that something was wrong within, while Mimi and Benny sat down on the old, and somewhat broken couch, having one of their usual mock-happy conversations with each other.

**"Awh, Marky, if you needed help you know you could've called me…"** Maureen had let out, grabbing the other oven-mitt and moving over to the stove. **"You've gotta put the broccoli on an hour in advance… This stuff won't be ready by the time everybody gets here…"**

**"Thanks Maureen, but you're a guest… I'll finish fixing dinner on my own… Why don't you go and sit with Benny and Mimi…"** Mark offered, but Maureen insisted on helping in the kitchen. He sighed softly, and bit at his bottom lip.

_I really can't help but laugh to myself, leaning against the wall as I watch. Watching is all I can do, and it's funny. Mark would never make a good housewife, that much was assured. First he and Maureen had fought over who would do what, and then he'd started insisting again that she leave him alone. It was cute. He insisted that it was a rule of dinners and such that he fix the dinner while the guests entertained themselves. She wound up arguing that the host was supposed to entertain the guests first off, and that it was a rule of Thanksgiving that he should be grateful for anything he had ever been given, and kindly accept the help she was offering. It really was cute in an I'm ready to scratch my ears off kind of way to listen to them argue. I might not have been around when they were together, but even I know it would've never worked out between the two of them. She's too dominant. He's too feminine. I'll bet he'd've accepted my help if I could've been there._

**"Hey Mark! Throw down a key!"** Collins. Called up, though anybody in the loft could tell that there was a sort of tone in his voice that had disappeared. It was sad really. The most recent arrival, Joanne, made her way out onto the fire escape and threw Mark's key down at Collins.

**"And hurry up, why don't you? He's setting the table."** Collins waved up at her, and hurried into the building. It was like him though, to be late. It had almost come to be expected of him. It had taken an extra hour since the first arrivals had come to finish preparing the meal, and he was satisfied that he could leave the pies in the oven while they ate. Collins came in, and gave hugs (halfhearted though they were) all around before taking a seat on the couch.

_I hate seeing him so sad, and he's trying so hard not to let them see how he really feels… At least he's being sociable though, the meal should do him some good, at least to be around friends and all. And from what I've seen so far, they're doing their best to be civil. Maureen and Joanne had a chat, and really, there were no hard feelings by anybody around the loft. It was just a shame that Roger wasn't there._

**"C'mon guys… everybody have a seat around the table."** There were eight seats around it, and none of them matched, but having six felt odd. The table was big enough for eight, and all in all, none of the furniture had cost a cent. All of it had either been given to him, or scrounged from people's garbage night treasure. Mark couldn't help but feel somewhat proud of himself, as he carried out the centerpiece – the turkey.

The bohemians rose, and each made their way to one of the seats that had been pulled out in advance, sitting down and pulling in.

_I followed. I might not be able to let them know I'm here, but I am. The least I can do is sit with them through the meal._

**"Nobody's going to get pissy if we don't say grace or anything, right? I'm a jew, and I don't know if any of you guys practise…"** Mark offered, as he placed the tray down, and sat at the head of the table. He glanced about, and caught an angry look from Maureen.

**"Marky… Thanksgiving rule… You have to say grace…"** Mark didn't feel like causing much of a stir again between the two of them, and so simply offered a compromise.

**"Fine then… A toast… Less religious… covers everything…"** He popped open a bottle of cheap wine he'd managed to get, and poured some into everybody's glass. He then raised his own. **"To friends."** And gave a glance to his left, where Benny sat.

**"To Memories."** He offered, and raised his own glass.

Mimi rose hers beside him. **"To love."**

Joanne's soon joined the three in the air. **"To integrity."** She paused for a second, after receiving a look from Maureen, who rose her glass with a smirk.

**"To freedom."** She countered, and Collins quickly put his glass into the air beside her.

**"To Angel."**

_How sweet… it's a shame I couldn't join in on the toasting, but thankfully, I shared all of their sentiments. It hard for me to be here, and watch them celebrate without me._

As they all put their glasses to their lips, ready to drink, the sound of somebody fumbling with a set of keys outside the loft could be heard. Mark's head turned, and he put his glass down, as did everybody else, as he moved to the door, standing behind it as he unlocked, and pulled it open, hiding from view, until he saw Roger step in, a duffle bag under one arm, and quickly launched himself at the blonde, his blue eyes sparkling.

**"Sorry I'm late guys… I heard everything… Don't worry, It's all good…"** He offered, putting his bag down, and rushing over to the table, Mark trailing slightly behind. He took the seat closest to Mark as he sat down, across from Benny. There was a heated glance between the two, while Mark filled a glass of wine for Roger, still redfaced from the cold wind.

**"I thought you were getting on a bus?"** Mark asked as he passed the glass to his best friend.

**"I was."** Roger grinned, putting his glass up into the air. The others raised theirs as well. **"So whats covered… friends, love, freedom, integrity, Angel, memories… Aha…"** His grin changed into a smirk. **"Don't spill your drinks guys… To the Alphabet City Bus system. Somethings never change, like busses driving at twenty miles an hour even though the streets are deserted."**

A quick laugh was shared, And everybody had a mouthful of wine. All in all, even though things hadn't turned out perfectly, and some of the food was burnt, and some wasn't cooked all the way through, and the smell of burning pies had wafted through the air halfway through the meal, quickly followed by thick black smoke, none of it mattered. What mattered was that they were _all_ together on Thanksgiving, even though they didn't know it.


End file.
